


Throughout The Centuries

by Hekate1308



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 01:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19801690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Or, 5 times Crowley and Aziraphale didn't admit to themselves they were on a date, and one time they did.





	Throughout The Centuries

**Author's Note:**

> I've never really written one of those things before, but hey, first time for everything. Enjoy!

**The Kingdom of Wessex, 547 AD**

Ten more years had passed since he had first proposed to Aziraphale that they should just leave well enough alone and write reports to their respective headquarters, but no; the angel had had to decline, and so Crowley was still stuck fomenting discontent in the marshes where it was wet and dreary and one couldn’t find a decent carriage _anywhere_.

At least King Arthur had finally fought his last battle so he wouldn’t spread anymore peace. It had taken a lot of effort to balance everything out.

Crowley had decided that a drink was in order and was currently thanking Go- Sa- someone that the Romans had taught the Britons how to make decent wine. Granted, it was nothing like the stuff they’d had in Ancient Rome, but it was close enough.

Someone slid into the seat next to him. He knew without looking. “Hello, angel. Had a nice decade?”

Aziraphale sighed, then said, “You were right. It is dreadfully damp. And you don’t have a decent church choir in miles!”

“That’s too bad” Crowley mused, taking a sip of his wine and wincing. “But you know our orders. As long as we are supposed to be fomenting here…”

Another sigh to his right. Then, he answered, sounding defeated, “I really shouldn’t let you tempt me like this…”

“It’s not tempting, is it” Crowley said, finally turning to look at him. He had to admit, the angel had never looked grumpier. He supposed someone who wasn’t evil and fallen would have called the sight endearing. “It is coming to an arrangement for our – and our bosses – mutual benefit. After all, the humans muddle through well on their own, don’t they? Doing both good and bad things. Who’s to know that we weren’t exactly the instigators of it all?”

The angel shifted on his seat. “Oh, I _really_ shouldn’t.”

“You could be back in London within a few days” Crowley said, dropping his voice, “All the taverns and church choirs you could dream off –“

“But what if they fine out – “

“When did you last have an inspection? Do you even think they read your reports?”

Aziraphale looked shocked. “Of course they read them!”

“If you say so” Crowley shrugged.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, glanced around, then back at Crowley. Finally, he sighed once more. “Alright. Let’s do it. Just this one time, though; I can’t be working with a fiend.”

“If you say so. Now, since we’ve got reason to celebrate, how about I invite you to another bottle of this beverage they insist on calling wine?” he asked, raising his cup. It wasn’t so bad once one got used to it.

“That would be acceptable, yes.”

“I mean, unless you are scared of being tempted –“

“By the damn wine, Crowley.”

He grinned and signalled the bar wrench.

It became several more bottles. They eventually parted ways the next day at noon, neither of them admit5ting that they hadn’t had so much fun in decades – not even to themselves.

**Spain, 1497**

“Crowley?”

He groaned as he opened his eyes. He’d thought he couldn’t get hangover.

As it turned out, he had been mistaken. “What?”

“Crowley” the same voice who’d woken him up said urgently, “You need to get up. I already had tzo stop two robbers from discorporating you for your purse.”

He opened his eyes. “Aziraphale.”

“Hello. See, I knew you could do it.”

He sat up. “What happened?”

“I was about to ask you.”

“Oh. Right. My lot sent my here for a few temptations.” Crowley tried very hard to remember, and then he wished he hadn’t. “Decided to check out this Spanish Inquisition. I needed a drink.”

“Quite understandable my dear fellow, it’s just that I thought this was your side’s doing.”

“Oh Heaven, no. The humans came up with that themselves.” He begrudgingly allowed Aziraphale to help him up. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

He’d been drinking for a week, then. Small wonder that he felt like that. “I am going to sober up.”

“Good idea.”

Crowley did just so, then shook his head; there was still a foul taste in his mouth. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“My side sent me here to investigate… well, you know. Gabriel seemed rather impressed with their inventiveness.”

“He would be” Crowley said, frowning when the taste in his mouth simply wouldn’t go away. “You don’t happen to know any good restaurants around here, do you? I need something to freshen me up.”

Of course Aziraphale knew where to eat when in Toledo. He wasn’t surprised.

“I just – I mean” Crowley shuddered. “The rack. At least in Hell, all there is is the eternal threat of permanent death. And yes, there would be some torture before that, I assume, but this –“

“Humans have always been very – creative. The Almighty herself created them that way for a reason.”

“Yes, but for this? I mean, they could be having fun, just get along, you know –“

“Crowley not so long ago you were fomenting discontent yourself!”

“Discontent! Not – this. War is something else; nothing wrong about a normal, clean war. People disagree, they kill a few on each side, then they leave. That’s normal. What those guys are doing isn’t normal.”

After a pause he finally said, “I guess I should thank you. Being discorporated would have been annoying.”

“Not to mention the paper work” Aziraphale smiled.

Crowley could have pointed out that, if he had managed to get himself killed, his biggest problem would not have been the paperwork, but the angel was probably already aware of that.

They ate in silence for a while. Or rather, Aziraphale ate in silence for a while, since Crowley had already finished his meal. The angel was a slow eater.

Eventually, he said, “I am sure they’ll grow out of it. The humans, I mean.”

“Let’s hope so, before my lot takes any ideas from them.”

Aziraphale looked at him then, then held out his plate. “Would you like some of my _esparech ab salsa_?”

He knew the angel well enough to consider this as the compliment it was, so Crowley decided to abstain from commenting on his terrible pronunciation.

**Vienna, 1762**

Alright, so maybe him being at this very place in this moment in history wasn’t an accident. But then, it was all part of the Great Plan, wasn’t it? So he had every reason to be here and tempt a priest in a somewhat half-hearted manner (Crowley never really enjoyed tempting humans. They did a good enough job of being bad on their own, if you asked him).

Still, here he was, and maybe he wasn’t really surprised to meet Aziraphale. Maybe, just maybe he’d taken a glance at the paperwork in Hell and looked for where the angel was going to pop up next according to those back channels those higher up would never admit to. Maybe.

“Hello, Aziraphle. Didn’t expect you here.”

“Crowley! Up to no good, as usual?”

“You know me.” He hesitated for a moment, then pressed on, “Say, there is this new kid in town called Mozart. I heard he’s pretty good on the piano. Want to check it out?”

He knew the angel had never been able to resist a good composer.

Aziraphale blinked. “That sounds… nice.”

“You know me. Nicest demon around.”

He narrowed his eyes. “This is not some trick to seduce me to your side, is it?”

“Please, we’ve helped each other out how often, now?”

“Crowley!” he looked around. “You know if your side ever finds out, they are going to kill you.”

“So what? You can only be killed once. Plus, I can always go off. See the universe. Alpha Centauri.”

“You’d just leave like that?”

Crowley wanted to tell him that he had nothing that kept him here, but in his hearts of heats, he knew the lie was too big, even for him.

So instead he said, “So, how about that composer?”

And they went and listened to Mozart. Even Crowley had to admit the kid was good.

And Aziraphale enjoying music was always a sight to behold.

What he didn’t ask himself was why he should even care about that.

And what Aziraphale decided not to wonder about was why he’d been so eager to accept the demon’s invitation. Music or no music, this was still supposed to be one of his hereditary enemies, after all.

**Paris, 1793**

Of course the angel would risk being killed – well, their version of being killed – for crepes. Thank God Crowley had been around and realized what he’d been up to, or rather, what the humans had been up to.

And aristocratic clothes, really? Aziraphale had been asking for it.

Still, he helped out, because why shouldn’t he have? They had known each other for quite some time now, after all; he’d even be prepared to call them something like friends.

And he had to admit the crepes were good, even if he didn’t eat nearly as many as Aziraphale.

“So, what about that bookshop idea of yours?” he eventually asked.

“You know me, I do like my books.”

“You do realize that a shop means you’d have to sell some of them?”

Aziraphale stared at him as if that idea had genuinely not occurred to him. Crowley wondered if he should suggest that he open a library, instead; but that would entail routinely letting books out of his hands with the possibility that they might not be returned, and that would probably not sound very good to the angel, either.

And really, if he wanted to open a book shop, why shouldn’t he? Everyone needed a hobby. Crowley was still busy looking for an adequate carriage, and looking at some of the gardens those aristocrats used to keep before it all went to hell /(figuratively speaking, of course) maybe he should look up how to care for plants… it was something to do, at least.

“Anyway, let me know when the grand opening is” he heard himself say, “I might drop by with flowers and chocolates.”

Aziraphale beamed, so he decided he must have said the right thing, even if it didn’t make much sense.

**The first day of the rest of their lives**

“So, that was that. The Antichrist grew up human. Who would have thought.”

“Maybe it was all part of the plan” Aziraphale suggested, finishing off his desert.

“Maybe” Crowley agreed and wondered if, perhaps., after all this millennial, he should make a suggestion of his own, one that had precious little to do with ineffable plans, or even Heaven and Hell…

He swallowed.

No. This was madness.

**A week later**

This was still madness. Crowley was rather sure that their encounter with both of their (former) respective sides had finally caused him to snap.

But here he was, clutching a bunch of flowers (they had nothing on his plants, but they’d hate top do; if this all worked out, maybe he’d look into rearing his own), standing in front of the bookshop that was closed, as usual.

He jumped when the door opened and Aziraphale looked out. “Crowley? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“Yes” he answered, realizing to his dismay that his voice sounded a bit higher than usual. “Yes. Everything’s perfect, angel. Why are you asking?”

Aziraphale frowned. “because you look really nervous, and you are holding flowers…” he trailed off. “Are those for me?”

“Yes” Crowley squeaked, “I thought you might like them. And maybe we could… I don’t know… do that picnic you once talked about.”

A pause.

Then, Aziraphale asked, “Are you asking me out on a date.”

“Yes? Yes. Definitely. Asking you out here. Yes.”

“Oh.”

And for a moment, Crowley feared that he’d be at the end of an awkward rejection, but then, Aziraphale pressed a kiss against his lips as he took the flowers. “Of course, dear. Let’s see what we can have for the picnic…”

All in all, it was a rather nice day, considering the world should have ended a week ago. 


End file.
